Execute
by sillycucumber
Summary: Roommates Santana and Quinn fly to New York to see Brittany perform on Broadway, and end up finding their Unholy Trinity partying it up with the person they had least expected. AU after Season 2. ONE-SHOT


Just something I thought of one night. I don't even know! AU to eveyrthing after season 2 I think.

Disclaimer: Obviously not mine.

* * *

When Santana suggests they go to New York for a few days, Quinn isn't entirely sure how to react.

The last time they were there together, back in high school, Santana hadn't seemed all that enthusiastic about the city. She'd been more content to sit in the hotel lounge and try to convince middle-aged businessmen to buy her drinks, or go pull pranks on the other people staying on the floor below them with Puck and Sam.

So when she gets the phone call on her lunch break, skipping the hello's like always and instead beginning with, 'You have money saved, right?, and when Quinn learns that she doesn't need to go bail Santana out of jail, she hears about how she'd been talking to Brittany on Skype the night before.

"I didn't know you guys were talking again."

"A few weeks now,' Santana mutters awkwardly. 'She asked me to come see her show, said she could get tickets and, well, I know you're still into all that stuff."

"Because you don't have every Doris Day musical in your DVD drawer."

"Whatever, Sassy Pants, are you in or not?"

Quinn only needs to look around her office for a moment before replying, 'I'll look up hotels'.

Three weeks later they're on a plane. Quinn sits in the aisle seat because she gets sick. Santana is sitting next to her and her leg is bouncing.

"You're a nervous flier?' Quinn enquires as the plane begins to accelerate down the runway.

Santana scoffs. "I'm not a nervous anything."

Santana's gripping the arm rest so tightly her knuckles are white, and Quinn doesn't believe her.

* * *

After checking into their rooms and dumping their luggage, Quinn only has time to change her pants because Santana is already at the door, tapping her foot impatiently with raised eyebrows. They hail and cab and soon arrive the theatre and as instructed, they head straight for the ticket box. Quinn doesn't comment directly when Santana practically shoves anyone out of her way, instead just throws apologetic smiles at the people now standing aside, looking affronted.

"I'm collecting two tickets under the name Brittany Pierce,' Santana snaps to the young guy behind the desk.

"Please,' Quinn adds, giving another smile.

The boy smiles back with a feint, red tinge to his cheeks, but smothers it almost straight away it and hurries back to the task as Santana heaves a very loud sigh.

Quinn squeezes her arm. "Breathe. You're going to have a stroke."

"I'm fine."

"There's nothing to ner-…"

"I'm not nervous!"

People nearby look around at her tone. Quinn just raises an eyebrow.

Santana sighs, looking apologetic, but doesn't get the chance to say anything because the boy behind the desk is telling her he's found the tickets, and that Miss Peirce has invited both her and her friend backstage at the end of the show, and that they just need to make their way down to the left to find the stage entrance.

Santana seems suddenly paralyzed. Her shoulders are rigid as she takes in this information.

Quinn takes the tickets and the note that comes with them, thanks the boy and leads Santana away.

They make their way inside, find their row and scoot along sideways, bumping knees with the people already seated. Quinn apologized to everyone. Santana hits a man in the face with her bag and says nothing.

"Anyone would think you'd never even been to a musical before,' Quinn snaps, pushing Santana into her seat, 'let alone been in one."

"High school was not a musical."

"You could have fooled me."

Quinn takes the seat beside her and begins flipping through the program without really paying attention. She looks up at the stage and feels a sudden burst of pride. It's nice to think of Brittany up on stage, dancing her heart out every night for hundreds of people. She was the best dancer Quinn had ever seen, and she'd enough of those reality shows to know. Seemed only natural she's end up performing for people. As horrible as it sounded, it was the one thing Brittany had truly excelled at in high school.

Santana's knee is bouncing up and down. She keeps fidgeting in her seat. The note that came with the tickets is clutched tightly in her hand. "When does it start?"

"Will you just relax? You look like you have to pee."

"I just wish they'd hurry up."

Quinn says nothing. She understands. The sooner it starts, the sooner it will be over.

Finally the seats around them fill, the lights flicker, and then go dark completely. The stage lights come on and music starts, and Quinn feels a thrill of excitement roll up her spine. She casts a glance to Santana beside her; she'd gone still for the first time since stepping off the plane that morning.

The chorus line floods onto the stage, and judging from the way Santana shifts forward in her seat she spots Brittany first. Quinn searches frantically, trying to discern one face from another as they all dance around, until she finally spots her. No wonder it takes her a minute; Brittany's cut her hair since the last time she saw her and lost a bit of weight, but it's definitely her. She's smiling as she sings and dances, so expressive in her face and the way she moves that Quinn can't take her eyes off her.

Then the lights go out, and a spotlight appears, and Rachel Berry walks out on stage.

Quinn's entire body goes rigid; a movement in completely contrast to the rest of the audience, whom have all broken out in tremendous applause.

She's in shock, not from the fact that Rachel is up on stage, because they always knew she wouldn't end up anywhere else, but because she's on _this_ stage.

She looks at Santana, who just nods impatiently, holding up a finger that clearly indicates 'not now'.

Rachel's started singing. There's no music yet, just Rachel and her alto, belting out the intro to the song. Quinn's entire body erupts with goose bumps; she didn't think it possible, but Rachel has actually gotten better. Much better.

Quinn slowly starts to ease as Rachel continues the song. The feeling of déjà vu is ridiculously potent as Rachel strolls up and down the stage, becoming more and more animated as the song builds. It's as if the last seven years have never happened. The moment feels oddly removed, as if they're not sitting in luxurious seats in a grand theater on Broadway, but instead in plastic orange chairs in a choir room in a High School in Lima.

Finally the orchestra has begun, and the rest of the chorus line joins in, and soon enough they're all dancing around and singing. Quinn's eyes follow Rachel the entire time.

Sometimes she dances with Brittany, right up close like they used to at Sectionals or Regionals. Quinn doesn't know if it's scripted or if they just like being together out of a sense of camaraderie, but it's interesting to watch them together like this. A universe away from the way they used to interact with each other when they'd first started spending time together.

Quinn is so distracted by Rachel that it takes her at least half an hour to finally realize that there's an actual story going on – and Rachel is the female lead. She wants to snap at Santana for not warning her about this sooner, but Rachel distracts her again, this time sucking her into the show instead of segregating her from it.

If she didn't already know her, Quinn would be extremely impressed with Rachel's performance. But she's grown up with this. She's seen this every day or every week for nearly three years. She knows how Rachel is going to perform songs, or how she is going to dance, or how she is going to interact with her fellow cast members, despite the fact that she is playing the part of someone else. Quinn recognizes the way her hair twirls as she spins around dramatically while she sings a duet, how her eyes close and her face screws up like she's really in pain when she's singing an emotional ballad. How her chest heaves and the cords of her neck stick out when she's acting out a dramatic scene.

Quinn isn't impressed as she should be, but she's impressed none-the-less.

She's almost forgotten about Santana sitting next to her, when the chorus line came back on stage, when Brittany danced back on stage, and she has tensed beside her.

But the song is over quickly, and then it's intermission.

Both girls collected their things without a word and hurried out into the foyer.

Santana leads the way to the bar with Quinn hot on her heels.

"Wine?'

"Why didn't you tell me – "

"_Wine_?"

Quinn sighs and hands over a twenty. Santana snaps it up and orders their drinks. "I didn't know she would be, okay? Brittany said she was the understudy."

Quinn frowns. "Understudy? _Rachel Berry_?"

"I know, right? How is New York still standing from the shit-fit she no doubt threw when she found out that piece of news?' Santana hands Quinn her wine and then takes a gulp of her own. 'I figured she wouldn't even be here, so I didn't think it worth telling you. Why does it matter anyway?"

"It doesn't matter. I was just surprised. I came to see Brittany and ended up seeing Rachel – bit of a shock."

"Yeah, well… 'Santana finishes her sentence by taking another long mouthful of her drink.

Quinn rubs Santana's arm. "She looks good up there."

"Which one?"

"Brittany."

Santana nods. "Berry does too… I guess. I didn't think it was possible for her to get better. Perfectionist bitch.' She added under her breath.

Quinn laughs, knowing that use of 'bitch' was almost affectionate.

Santana downs her drink in one last gulp and let out a satisfied 'Ahh'. "Ready for another?"

"I've barely started this one."

"Good, me too. Give me twenty bucks, you're buying again."

* * *

Maybe it was the two glasses of wine she'd had in the intermission, or the fact that she and Santana had spent the entire time talking about Brittany being awesome and Rachel being predictable and boring, but for Quinn the second half of the show was easier to pay attention too.

The sex scene might have had something to do with it, which was both an awkward and interesting experience.

Awkward, because it's Rachel Berry, and Quinn had never wanted to think of her in any sort of sexual context.

Interesting, because it's with another girl.

Quinn watches, transfixed, as Rachel kisses the redhead on stage, pulling her hair, making her gasp. She backs her up against the bed (Quinn can't remember the characters name, she isn't paying that much attention) and they tumble down, laughing into each other's mouths as the music stirs, playing along with them softly. Quinn wonders when the scene will end when Rachel's top comes off, and so does the other girls pants. They're writhing against each other; Rachel leans her head back and the girl begins to suck on her neck and she lets out a gasp and Quinn crosses her legs.

And then the lights go out.

"Holy crap,' Santana breathes beside her, almost inaudible from the murmur of the audience.

Quinn just nods.

The scene shifts, and the male lead is back on stage, but Quinn can't focus again. She's too caught up thinking about the way Rachel touched that girl, how she kissed her, how she shoved her down on the bed and climbed on top of her. She glances at Santana; she's clearly not having the same problem.

Finally ends with one last number with all cast members on stage, and Quinn watches Rachel with a renewed vigor as she dances up the front with the male lead, and Quinn has a momentary flashback to high school when Rachel and Finn stood at the front of the stage of their performances, holding hands and belting their lungs out, when the curtain comes down, and the audience erupts in tremendous applause.

Santana is on her feet when the chorus line comes out for their curtain call, and Quinn wonders if Brittany can see her as she takes her bow with the rest of the dancers. Then the supporting cast.

Then the leads.

Rachel holds hands with her co-stars, both the boy and girl, as they run out and the applause grows even louder. Everyone gets to their feet, and Quinn finds herself standing too, half because she can't see the stage anymore, and half because, well, they do kind of deserve it.

Rachel is beaming as she takes a bow. She looks so happy, like she's going to burst into tears at any moment. Quinn is surprised she hasn't already. Understudy or not, this is Rachel's dream. To have it come true must be so overwhelming, Quinn is impressed with the fact that she hasn't passed out yet.

When the orchestra finally stops and the lights come back on, Quinn and Santana make their way through the crowd once more out the doors and to the stage entrance.

Santana practically beats the door down when they get there.

An older, plump woman in a steward outfit answers. 'Can I help you?"

"We're here to see Brittany Peirce,' Santana snaps impatiently.

Quinn puts a hand on her shoulder and puts her back, smiling hastily at the woman who now looks very annoyed. "She's an old friend of ours. She's expecting us."

The woman gives Santana a look, then disappears, closing the door behind her.

Santana gestures to the door. "See what you did?"

"Excuse me?'

"Now she's gonna think she can take her sweet-ass time."

"You're lucky she's taking any time at all.' Quinn grabs Santana's hand and spins her around to face her and softly implores, '_Relax_."

Santana looks like she wants to punch Quinn in the face, completely on principle, and Quinn panics for a split second because Santana is so worked up that Quinn wouldn't put it past her to do so. But instead Santana turns away and Quinn watches her shoulders rise and fall slowly as she takes deep breaths.

"There's nothing to be nervous about,' Quinn says. 'It's just Brittany."

"It's never been 'Just Brittany'" Santana replies over her shoulder.

Quinn smiles to herself.

The door opens again and the woman is back. "Follow me, please."

Quinn's only ever been backstage at performances she herself was a part of, but the energy is the same, despite the grander scale. Excitement, relief, joy… it's like the walls are humming with it. As Quinn and Santana follow the woman through the crowds of people loitering and chatting around the halls, and weave through laneways of dressing tables, the finally arrive at a dressing room, with a gold star on the front saying, 'Julia'.

"We asked to see Brittany Pierce,' says Quinn, looking at the gold star, 'not Rachel Berry."

The woman looks at her, momentarily startled at Quinn's knowledge of whose dressing room this is without being told. "She's in here with Miss Berry.' She explains slowly.

Santana knocks on the door as the woman walks off, and it only takes a second before the door swings open.

Brittany only needs a moment to take in the two people standing in front of her, before she's beaming and instantly throws herself at Santana. The brunette half grunts, half laughs at the impact and in no time is hugging her back just as tightly.

Quinn smiles at first, finding the moment sweet. But the moment continues, and neither girl is moving at all, just holding on for dear life, and Quinn has to clear her throat loudly.

Brittany opens her eyes and laughs at Quinn, as if just realizing she's there. She detangles herself from Santana, their embrace lingering until the last possible moment, until Santana steps aside and Brittany hugs Quinn tightly against her. Quinn feels warmth spread through her chest and realizes just how much she's missed her.

"I'm so glad you both came,' Brittany says, releasing Quinn. 'Come in!"

Santana goes first, brushing against Brittany as she enters. Quinn hesitates; Brittany takes her hand and leads her inside, shutting the door behind them, muting the commotion happening back out into the hall.

The room is rather small, not the glamorous living space Quinn had always imagined Broadway dressing rooms to be. There's a couch and a table with a bowl of pretzels half-eaten on it. The mirror is huge and has bright lights around it. The desk is littered with an assortment of make-up, brushes and tissues. On one end of the desk is a large bouquet of flowers with a card signed by someone Quinn can't make out. On the other end is a few photo frames. Quinn recognizes Rachel's parents, Kurt and a tall blonde man who was no doubt his new boyfriend Callum that she's heard about from Mercedes, and a half-concealed frame with Shelby and a little girl with blonde wavy hair that Quinn decides is in her best interest not to take too much notice of.

"Rachel's just in the shower,' Brittany says, gesturing to the other door in the room. 'She'll be out in a minute."

"Don't you have your own space?' Quinn asks.

"Yeah, but I always hang out with Rachel after a show. She helps me take my make-up off and I take her to that vegan pizza she likes from down on twenty fourth street."

Brittany sits down on the couch and pats the seat next to her. Santana instantly flops down into the spot beside her, almost falling into Brittany's lap, she's so close. Quinn squeezes in at the end – it's not a very big couch.

"I'm so happy to see you both,' Brittany says again, beaming. 'Did you like the show?'

"You were amazing, Britt,' Santana smiles. 'I've never seen you dance your ass off like that before."

"They sent me to boot camp when I got the part. They said I was too raw… I thought they were going to send me to the solarium so I could cook up a bit more, but instead they sent me to dancing lessons… where you're not allowed to wear boots, I found out."

Quinn smiles; she hasn't seen Brittany in five years, and aside from the occasional email or Facebook status she hasn't really spoken to her in almost a year. She looks even more different up close. She's a little bit browner, her facial features are a little sharper and more defined, her hair is to her shoulders, kind of like how Quinn used to wear her hair before the end of school, but despite all these physical changes and becoming a Broadway star, Quinn is pleased to see that she is still the same old Brittany.

"Did you and Rachel audition together?' Quinn asks.

"Rachel got the part a few months before I started. One of the dancers broke their ankle tripping over a homeless man in the subway and Rachel insisted I take his place."

"_Insisted_?'

"She said I was perfect because I was a natural and easily directed and didn't take the subway so I wouldn't trip over people and break anything, so I was the best option they had on such short notice."

"That was nice of her.'

Quinn still wants to hear the story of just exactly how Brittany ended up living in New York – she's only heard snippets from Santana and personally finds the whole thing hard to believe. But, then again, this is Brittany she's talking about – but the sound of the shower cuts off from the bathroom, and Quinn inexplicably feels a sudden wave of anxiety.

"Everyone here is really nice,' Brittany says looking at the door as if she can see all the other cast members through it. 'I love dancing with them. My singing isn't as good as theirs but it doesn't matter so much because no-one can really hear me anyway."

Santana chuckles, looking at Brittany with so much pride it makes Quinn blush.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opens, and Quinn see's a blur of blue and hears a loud squeal before she looks around properly to see Rachel half-hidden behind the door, her wet hair tucked behind her ear.

"_Brittany_!' Rachel huffs. 'You couldn't have told me they were here?"

Santana raised an eyebrow in Rachel's direction. "She was busy entertaining."

"I'm sorry, Rachel.' Brittany apologizes.

Rachel's cheeks are bright red as she tries to calm herself down. Her brown eyes find Quinn after a moment and Quinn feels her cheeks burn as well. Although hidden behind the door, Rachel is only wrapped in a large blue towel and Quinn watches water drip down her neck and across her chest with a barely concealed stare.

"Hello, Santana. Quinn. Nice to see you."

"You too, but I think we're seeing a bit too much,' Santana teases. Quinn just waves, feeling words die in her throat.

Rachel tightens her grip on the towel. "Brittany, why don't you take Quinn and Santana for a tour backstage while I finish getting ready?"

"You guys wanna see the view from the stage?' Brittany asks, her whole face lighting up. 'I would have taken you up during the show but we probably would have booed off because you guys don't know the choreography and the audience usually don't like that. Except for that one night though, remember, Rachel?"

Rachel shuts the door with a snap, but Quinn still hears her muffled reply, "That was a charity show for the blind, Brittany!"

"Come on,' Brittany grabs Santana's hand and pulls her to her feet. Quinn almost slides onto the floor. 'I'll introduce you to Marvin, the security guard. He works at Area 51 on the weekends."

The air has cooled significantly when they step outside forty five minutes later. Quinn snuggles deeper into her grey pea coat and watches as fog emanates from her nostrils.

"So,' says Santana, wrapping her coat around Brittany's shoulders because Brittany left hers behind. 'Where to now? Where are the good clubs around here?"

"There's one just around here that Rachel and I go to all the time."

Santana raises an eyebrow – a physical representation of the surprise that Quinn feels.

"You go clubbing with Berry?"

"She's a good dancer,' says Brittany, as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.

Quinn looks back around through the glass doors and into the empty foyer. "Is she coming with us?"

"Yeah, she always comes. What?' Brittany asks at Santana's heavy sigh.

"It's just that… I thought it would just be the three of us, you know? Just like old times. The Unholy Trinity, ready to go crazy and take a big bite out of The Big Apple."

That, and they've never really hung out with Rachel just as a foursome, and just the thought of the dynamic is weird to Quinn.

"But she's my friend,' Brittany says, looking put out. 'I like going out with her. Can't we all just go out together just this once and have a good time?"

Brittany takes Santana's hands in hers and gives her _that look_ that Quinn recognizes from movie dates when Brittany wanted to see Wall-E and Santana wanted to see something else so they would end up seeing Wall-E, or from Breadsticks when Brittany wanted nachos on her pizza and Santana wanted meat lovers and they ended up getting nachos – and Quinn can almost see Santana melt.

Something out of the corner of Quinn's eye makes her turn, and she watches as Rachel walks around the corner with a red-headed girl Quinn immediately recognizes as the girl from the play.

The one Rachel made out with.

"… good show tonight, Rachel!' Quinn hears her say as they approach. 'That standing ovation – wow! Sucks your only on stage for two weeks. You're awesome."

Rachel shrugs, trying and failing to look humble. "Two weeks is better than nothing. I still get to be in the chorus when Melissa gets back."

"Well I look forward to it. I had a lot of fun tonight."

Rachel smiles and does that little bashful shrug thing of hers. The red head giggles, steps forward and hugs her, and when she pulls back she gives Rachel a kiss on the lips that lasts a tiny bit longer than it probably should have, but its long enough for Quinn's mind to flash back to the part in the play where they _really_ kissed, like they couldn't get enough of each other, and now Quinn is wondering if it was all really acting and why this moment, like the scene in the play, is making her belly coil and her cheeks flush.

When the girl pulls away, Rachel gives her an almost lazy smile, and then the two part ways, and Quinn realizes a moment later that she's staring and that Rachel, who is now walking over, has noticed.

"She plays opposite me,' Rachel explains, obviously misinterpreting Quinn's expression.

"Yes, I know,' Quinn nods, feeling stupid. 'I was watching."

Rachel smiles, and Quinn realizes how creepy that sounds. But she doesn't get the chance to take it back because Rachel is talking again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the show."

"I didn't say I did."

"No, you didn't, but why wouldn't you? We were fantastic. Weren't we, Brittany?' She says the last part louder, directing it at the two girls standing behind Quinn. She blinks; she's almost forgotten they're still standing there.

Brittany smiles and, her hand still linked with Santana's, bounds over, pulling the brunette with her.

"You were great, Rachel. The superintendant can shove their restraining order up their bums."

At Quinn and Santana's puzzled looks, Rachel quietly explains, 'My vocal exercises were causing people to move out and the superintendent was getting very annoyed with me for almost forcing him out of business."

"I tried putting egg cartons on the walls to block the sound, but it didn't work. And the thought of eggs and baby chickens gave Rachel nightmares."

Santana frowns, points at Brittany, then at Rachel. "You two _live together_?"

"Rachel let me move in with her after her last roommate left town,' Brittany smiled.

"You never told me that,' Santana hisses. 'Why did you say we could stay with you?"

"You _can_ stay with us,' Brittany reassures. 'I thought you'd be sleeping in my bed, and if Quinn doesn't want to sleep with Rachel she can sleep on the couch."

Santana straightens up and her eyebrows rise. Quinn looks at Rachel, feeling embarrassed and awkward. Rachel clearly has heard all this before because she's just watching the conversation with mild interest and amusement.

"We can discuss this later,' Quinn interjects. 'Santana, you wanted drinks?"

This seems to snap Santana back into the moment. "Yes. Booze. Sweet Jesus. Brittany, lead the way."

"Rachel's coming, right?' Brittany asks, moving to stand with Rachel as Santana heads to the curb to hail a cab.

Santana clears her throat and looks at Quinn, who looks at Rachel, who is looking awkward.

"It's okay,' she says, patting Brittany on the back. 'You three probably want some time alone. I'll just meet you back at the apartment."

"No, you have to come! Rachel, please? Santana?"

Santana sighs, seeing that look again. "You can come, Rachel. It's okay."

Rachel purses her lips, not looking convinced. "Quinn?"

Quinn nods. "Of course. This is your city."

Brittany squeals and tugs on Rachel's sleeve. Rachel laughs. "Okay, maybe for a little while. We do have to be up early in the morning for rehearsal. I presume we're going to _Execute_?"

"Yes?' Santana shrugs.

"In that case you can save your cab money for drinks, it's only just around the block."

* * *

_Execute_ turns out to be an underground establishment – literally. The metal staircase leading down to the entrance is so steep Quinn is glad she decided to forgo her heels because she most likely would have fallen and broken her neck. Santana doesn't have the same problem, breezing down the steps like she's levitating, hot on Brittany's heels. Rachel allows Quinn to go next, standing aside with a gesture of gallantry. Quinn smiles awkwardly as she descends.

The woman at the entrance grins at Rachel and Brittany as they approach, asks them how their show went and exclaims with excitement when she hears Rachel actually got to perform. The small talk is quick and friendly, and Brittany declares "they're with us!' and with that Quinn and Santana are getting in for free.

The music is loud and the bass is deep and vibrates up through the floor and up Quinn's legs into her stomach, making it jump along with the beat. The place is quite big, much larger than she would have been lead to believe from the tiny entrance up on the street. There are two levels, both with their own bar. The dance floor is full of bouncing, swaying, gyrating bodies. She can smell sweat and alcohol and there is an energy in the air that she can't quite describe but makes her skin erupt in tingles.

Quinn would never have imagined Rachel in a place like this, let alone being a regular. But she navigates her way around the crowd like a pro, leading the three ex-cheerleaders to the bar on the other side of the room.

"What do you want?' she calls into Quinn's ear. 'My shout!"

"Uh…Vodka Cranberry,' she shouts in reply.

Rachel gives her the thumbs up and turns to Brittany.

Quinn looks around as Santana leans in to talk. "This place is actually pretty cool. I was afraid they'd bring us to some karaoke place!"

"Don't get too excited. The night is young."

Santana laughs and accepts the beer Brittany holds out for her. Quinn takes her vodka from Rachel and gives her a small smile of thanks.

"Come on,' Rachel calls, pointing at the balcony overlooking the club, 'we can get seats up there."

Quinn is surprised when someone grabs her hand and pulls her along, but doesn't resist, just allows who she now realizes is Rachel to guide her through the crowd of bodies. The song changes suddenly to what is no doubt a crowd favorite from the way everyone cheers and their dancing suddenly becomes more enthusiastic. The bodies seem to close in around Quinn, but Rachel's grip on her tightens and she pulls her along a little faster.

They reach the balcony without a drop of their drinks spilt, a feat appreciated by Quinn, and they all take a seat around one of the tables by the railing, affording them a nice view of the dance floor below. Rachel drops Quinn's hand and sits herself down opposite Brittany and Santana, who are of course sharing the couch. Quinn sighs and resigns herself to the chair next to Rachel.

When Brittany starts talking she has to lean in to hear.

"Do you like the place?"

Santana looks over at Rachel with a disbelieving expression. "You both come here often?"

"Brittany's the one who found it,' Rachel gestures to the blonde with a smile.

"I was looking for the Seven Eleven,' Brittany explains.

"And you thought it would be in a nightclub?' Quinn frowns.

"I came in here to ask directions."

"She ended up stumbling home at eleven the next morning,' Rachel laughs, 'swearing to bring me along the next night."

Santana shakes her head, looking confused. "I'm sorry, how is it you ended up living together again? I didn't even know you kept in contact after school."

And so Brittany explains. Quinn misses parts of it; the music is too loud and there's too many things distracting her, like the songs playing and men watching her as they walk past and Rachel's knee pressed up against her own as she leans in, listening to a story she already knows the details of. But from what Quinn can gather, Brittany ended up in New York after taking the wrong train, only realizing her mistake when she got off at Grand Central Station, but not caring enough to get back on the train and correct her mistake she decided to stay for a few days.

"I went to a bar one night, and it was open mic night, and after a few people performed Rachel got up on stage,' Brittany smiles at Rachel fondly.

"I performed anywhere I could,' Rachel says, looking slightly embarrassed. 'You never know who's out for a drink at those places. Anyone could have heard me."

"I bought her a drink, she told me her old roommate had moved out because she hated her for singing so much, and so I asked if I could move in."

"If it were anyone but Brittany I would have said no,' Rachel says. 'She didn't even have a steady source of income. But I was desperate."

Quinn frowns, trying to imagine Brittany and Rachel sharing an apartment. It surprisingly isn't that hard. Brittany is flexible and seems to mesh with everyone – even Rachel. Quinn feels a sudden surge of impatience; she wants to see their apartment now. She wants to see how they do their dishes and how their living room is set up and if Brittany really did put egg cartons on Rachel's bedroom walls in a helpful attempt to muffle the sound.

She looks at Rachel out of the corner of her eye. The brunette is listening to Brittany as she tells Santana a story Quinn cannot hear over the music. No doubt Rachel's heard it before, but she's listening with a patience Quinn doesn't really remember her having.

The song changes again, causing Brittany to stop mid-sentence. She looks at Santana and without a word grabs her hand and pulls her to her feet. Santana doesn't have the chance or maybe even just the brain capacity to say anything about it as Brittany spins her around, grabs her hips and pushes her forward.

Quinn watches with a smile as Brittany takes them down to the middle of the dance floor. They haven't danced together since the after party at Kurt and Finn's house after Prom, and Quinn feels a wave of nostalgia as she watches them dance now, still clearly as in-tune with each others' movements as they were when they were teenagers. Even from the distance Quinn can see the emotions Santana's going through as Brittany wraps her arms around her neck and rolls her hips into Santana's. Excitement, anxiety, amusement, arousal…

At this last one, Quinn looks away, feeling rude for intruding on such a personal moment.

That's when she remembers that Rachel is still sitting there… and that now she's left alone with her.

Rachel isn't paying her much attention though; she too is watching Brittany and Santana with the tiniest upturn in the corner of her mouth. Her lips are red and glistening from her drink and Quinn finds herself biting her own bottom one.

"Do you want another?' Quinn asks for something to say.

Rachel looks around and shakes her head. "Someone has to stay sober tonight."

Quinn nods. She hadn't planned on drinking much, just the wine she'd had at the show earlier, but being in this environment and something about this music and Santana and Brittany and Rachel makes her feel like having just a few more.

She gets to her feet, explaining that she'll be right back, but Rachel grabs her hand, shakes her head and looks over at the upstairs bar they're sitting across from. Rachel waves her hand, and Quinn looks around to see a very good-looking bartender nod and rummage around for some glasses.

"Does everyone here know who you are?" Quinn leans in and asks. She finds herself staying a moment longer than she intends, just to enjoy Rachel's perfume.

Rachel smiles and leans back in, putting her mouth right up against Quinn's ear, and when she speaks her breath on Quinn's earlobe sends shivers all over her body.

"I only know them through Brittany. She was coming here almost three four times a week at one stage and they liked her so much they offered her some bar work. Doesn't hurt that she's tall and blonde and good-looking… which, as you can see, is pretty much the demographic here. If you ever get sick of selling real estate and want a career change you know where to come,' she adds with a sweeping gesture.

"I'll keep it in mind,' Quinn replies sarcastically, and Rachel laughs.

The barman appears suddenly and puts down a tray table containing four glasses of vodka and lemonade and eight shots of what Quinn discovers after a quick sniff to be tequila.

"I can't drink this,' Quinn grimaces. She feels a slap on her shoulder and looks up as Santana sits down opposite her, Brittany trailing along in her wake.

"Don't be ridiculous. Berry is designated, aren't you?'

Rachel takes the salt, shakes it out onto her fist, licks, throws back a shot and sucks on a lime quarter.

Santana actually laughs and points at her. "See? If she can do it, you damn well can too."

Quinn watches as Santana and Brittany both lick salt of each other's hands and do both of their shots, one after the other. She looks at Rachel who is watching her, sucking on the tiny black straw submerged in her vodka.

With a sigh and a feeling of disbelief that she's feeling peer pressure from Rachel Berry of all people, Quinn does her shot; salt, tequila, lime. She coughs and splutters as the liquid goes down and only takes a second to suck on her lime before deeming it futile and diving straight for the vodka.

"I'll do the other one later,' she responds to Santana's look of outrage, although not having any intention of having Tequila anytime soon.

Brittany waves at the bar and in no time more shots are arriving, this time looking like tiny glasses of chocolate milk.

"Quinn doesn't like tequila,' Brittany says to Rachel.

Rachel looks embarrassed. "Sorry, I didn't know."

"No, you wouldn't, cause you never used to party with us… except that one time when you made out with Kurt's boyfriend,' Santana laughs.

"And you cried,' Rachel retorts.

Santana stops laughing, and Quinn takes it up instead. It always had been, and still is, hilarious to see Rachel fight back whenever Santana tries to make her feel uncomfortable, and ends up feeling uncomfortable herself.

Brittany pats Santana on the back and hands Quinn a shot. "They're cowboys."

Quinn sighs and takes the shot. Trust Brittany to entice her into drinking by ordering her favorite shot. Santana throws hers back with a defiant look at Rachel.

"Trade?' Rachel suggests, holding her shot out to Quinn while eyeing off her Tequila.

Quinn seizes the shot and throws it and her other back. Rachel smiles and drinks her Tequila and Quinn finds it oddly attractive that Rachel has an affinity for such a horrid drink. She watches, fascinated, as Rachel throws her head back and skulls her drink.

Quinn rubs her eyes, feeling alcohol beginning to take over. Why is she finding Rachel attractive? Why are her palms sweating and her lower half throbbing? Why is she entranced by the way Rachel licks her lips and sucks on her lemon and wipes her mouth?

"Do you have a headache?' asks Brittany.

"What? No, just… too much to drink."

Santana scoffs, and although Quinn can't actually hear her she knows she's just muttered, 'Lightweight'.

"Let's go dance it off!'

Brittany grabs Santana's hand and they disappear again, drinks in their free hands.

"How does she still have the energy to dance?' Quinn asks. 'It's all she's been doing for the past eight hours."

"I think she puts Red Bull in her cereal."

Quinn isn't sure if Rachel's being sarcastic or not.

They both get to their feet and lean against the railings, watching the crowd below. Quinn looks at Rachel out of the corner of her eye. Was it the alcohol making her so comfortable, yet so aware of her? She could feel her eyes getting heavy and her knees feeling a bit weaker and smile knew she probably had a dopey smile on her face but she didn't care… she hadn't been drunk in a long time, and she'd forgotten how nice is felt to have a buzz.

"This is like some sort of alternate universe,'

"Sorry?'

Quinn blushes, realizing she's actually spoken out loud. "Nothing."

Rachel smiles and turns back out to the crowd.

Quinn does the same and finds Santana and Brittany almost instantly. She's happy for Santana; she hasn't ever really seemed right since she and Brittany broke up. She'd had relationships, sure. Quinn has seen girls come and go; some sneaking out the next morning with disheveled hair and heels hanging from their fingertips, others staying for such a long time it seemed as though they might be the one that finally sticks. But they all end, and Santana is always sad to see them go, but she always recovers. That's difference between them and Brittany; after all this time, Santana still hasn't recovered.

Watching them dance now is what it must be like to step into one of Santana's fantasies almost, which is what makes it so interesting yet awkward to watch. It's not because they're dancing so closely and intimately – Quinn has walked in on them in more intimate situations than dancing – it's because it's so personal, and Quinn hasn't seen Santana look so happy since senior Prom, and they're so wrapped up in each other it's like the world has fallen away and Quinn feels intrusive watching, yet is unable to look away.

"I was so glad when Brittany said she was talking to Santana again,' says Rachel. 'They need to be in each other's lives… but I'm sure I don't need to tell you that."

Quinn does know. It's disorientating to think that Rachel does too.

"Speaking of exes...' Quinn starts, wondering if she should stop, '... heard from Finn lately?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Not since he was staying with Noah, and that was a few weeks ago. According to Facebook he's in Chicago, following up a lead from Youtube."

Quinn nods. She'd read that post too. She was sure half the reason she was still friends with him on Facebook was so she could see what new artists he signed up next. It was amusing, sometimes, to think of him as a Talent Agent, but life has been stranger.

Out of the corner of her eye, Quinn sees a large, very toned arm slip into view. The barman has slipped his arm between them, brandishing a tray table with two more shots on it. Rachel smiles and takes it without question.

Quinn's mind is swimming from her buzz. She's well on her way to being drunk, and of course it seems like a good idea to continue drinking, so she takes the shot and throws it back, happy to know it's not tequila, but chokes on it all the same. Vodka just isn't the same without cranberry; it's like gasoline.

She looks at Rachel as they place their glasses back on the tray table. Rachel is licking her lips, savouring the last remnants of her drink. Her eyes are glassy and the corner of her mouth is upturned slightly as she watches the crowd dance.

"I remember when you were a 'one and done' girl,' Quinn shouts over the music.

Rachel half-laughs, half splutters. "That was years ago. I've had practice since then. You can thank Brittany for that."

An image of Brittany and Rachel sitting on the floor of their apartment suddenly pops into Quinn's head, followed by Brittany and Rachel making out, and Quinn tries to squash the image but she can't; the fact that Brittany would try something like that is too realistic to banish, and after what Quinn saw during that play, she could believe Rachel would let her.

Quinn's eyes run down from Rachel's mouth to her neck and collarbone. Another image enters her head, of the scene in the play where that girl had kissed her all over that neck, and run her hands up her back and peeled off her shirt while sucking on her earlobe. Sure it was only acting, but that girl had kissed Rachel after the play, completely out of character.

What was it about her? Guys (and girls, apparently) just flocked to her. Even Puckerman had held a tiny flame for her once. What was it about her that made boys forget about their popular, head cheerleader girlfriends and want to hang out with her obsessive tiny frame and bad clothes?

Rachel didn't dress like that anymore. She wasn't dating Finn and she didn't seem as intense as she used to be. But she was still Rachel, Quinn had seen that the moment she'd stepped out on stage. How often had she watched her belt her lungs out like every performance was at the Tony Awards? Rachel's passion was the only thing that hadn't changed over time, and yet she seemed so much more settled now. Quinn guesses that's what happens when you finally achieve your life long dreams.

"You really were very good tonight,' Quinn blurts out.

Rachel's head snaps around and Quinn feels her cheeks burn under her gaze.

Quinn hopes Rachel will just take it as drunken rambling when she adds, 'You're always really good.'

Rachel purses her lips into a smile. "Thank you, Quinn. That means a lot coming from you. You're very good yourself."

Quinn waves a hand dismissively. 'I haven't performed since Mike and Tina's engagement party – except for in the shower. Not much call for it in Real Estate."

"I thought you were going to be an actress."

"I was. I am - on the weekends, anyway.' Quinn smiles and licks the remnants of her last shot from the corner of her mouth, watching the same area of Rachel's mouth at the same time. She has a sudden urge for a cigarette. 'I was only working in Real Estate to earn some money in the meantime, but I guess it just stuck. You know how it is. Well,' she added with a wry smile, 'I guess you don't."

Quinn looks back around when she feels a hand squeeze her shoulder, and feels her skin erupt in goose pimples when she sees that Rachel has leant right in again to say in her ear:

"You can do anything you want, Quinn. I always believed you could."

She barely even cares about Rachel's words. She can smell Rachel's perfume and her shampoo. She can smell Tequila on her breath. She can see sweat rolling down her neck as she cranes to talk; the cords of her neck are glistening, and Quinn feels an inexplicable urge to bite…

Quinn smiles and pushes Rachel away softly, trying to get some distance between them. Rachel doesn't seem offended, just stumbles slightly with a giggle. Quinn sits back down and puts her head in her hands. The room is spinning. Surely she's just drunk and the bass is causing the throb inside her.

The couch sags next to her, and Quinn looks up hopefully, but it's just Santana, looking flushed yet happy.

Brittany sits across from them, holding Rachel's hand. Even as intoxicated as she is herself, Quinn can see how smashed they both are.

"Are you 'kay?' Brittany slurs, looking slightly to the left of Quinn, yet nonetheless concerned. 'Got a headache?"

To avoid explanation, Quinn just nods.

"Drink more,' Santana offers, patting her on the back. 'And come dance it off."

Quinn pushes away the vodka Santana shoves under her nose. "Let's dance."

Brittany grabs her hand and yanks her to her feet before she even realizes what's happening. She reaches out with her spare hand to grab Rachel but her fingers close around nothing but air.

The room spins by in a whirl and before she knows it she's mashed up in a crowd of people with Brittany's arms around her shoulders and her hips grinding against her. Quinn laughs out of shock and rocks back into her, vaguely aware of the sound of cat calls coming from the single men who are lucky enough to be standing close enough to see.

She notices Santana has arrived and backs off. Santana doesn't even seem to notice, her attention solely on the other blonde. She grabs Brittany's hips and pulls her right up against her, and Quinn flushes red again. She knows she shouldn't be watching but she can't help it. Santana drapes her arms over Brittany's shoulders and their thighs sink between each other's legs as they dance together. Their foreheads are pressed together and Quinn isn't sure who instigates it but in the next moment their kissing like they're not in a crowd of people, and there's more cat calls and Quinn wishes people would just shut up because to them this is just some sort of saphic perverted show but she knows what this is really about…

Quinn stumbles as someone presses past her. She blinks; her head is spinning. Her body is thumping from the bass and she squints, trying to orientate herself… and then two hands have her by the shoulders.

"Hey! Quinn!"

Rachel smiles and steadies her.

"Are you okay?"

Quinn licks her lips, breathing in Rachel's perfume. "I lost San and Britt."

"They're just there. They're… busy."

Quinn laughs and pulls Rachel closer. Rachel puts her hands on Quinn's hips, thinking that she needs to be anchored. Quinn's eyes are heavy and she feels wonderful and her body is throbbing again, but not from the beat of the music and when did it get so hot?

She snakes her arms through Rachel's and leans in to say in her ear, "I'm sorry."

"What for?' Rachel calls back.

"I haven't always been th'nicest person t'you,' Quinn slurs, nuzzling Rachel's hair with her nose, 'but you w're amazin' tonight… and you're amazing because you like me, ev'n though I'm a bitch…"

"You're not a bitch,' Rachel insists.

Quinn pulls back and looks at Rachel's face, which is earnest.

"You're not. You're talented and caring and beautiful… and I'm glad you came out here to see Brittany. You're a good friend."

"I'm happy t'see her,' Quinn says. 'I'm happy t'see you too, Rach."

Rachel laughs. "You're so drunk."

"I am drunk!' Quinn nods. "I'm so… I'm so drunk. Are you drunk?"

"A little."

"You have to drive!"

"We can get a cab."

Quinn's lips pull back into a smile and she takes that a sign to dance more enthusiastically.

She isn't sure how long she's been dancing for, but Rachel hasn't let go of her once. The lights are flashing, red, blue, green, back to red. Quinn's mind goes blank and her world spins on an axis as she dances, feeling hot bodies press up against her and gyrate along with her and the beat. She keeps grabbing a hold of someone, and its only when she opens her eyes does she realize its Rachel.

She looks down at the shorter girl and feels her heart begin to race. Rachel's never seemed to be able to truly express herself through dance without choreography, but it seemed all she needed was booze, because her hips are rolling and her shoulders and shaking and her hair is flying about and Quinn pulls her in closer again, gasping at the feeling of Rachel's thigh automatically going between hers.

"You're a good dancer,' Quinn says in her ear.

She can feel Rachel smile against her ear, feel her breath as she laughs. "Not as good as Brittany."

Their hips are rolling together, even as Rachel turns around. Quinn grabs Rachel by the hips and presses herself into her back, nuzzling her hair again. Rachel arches back into her and before she can stop herself a moan escapes her lips.

She stiffens, hoping the music muffled it, hoping Rachel didn't hear, but Rachel turns around, looking concerned,

She leans up and says into Quinn's ear, "Are you okay?"

Quinn leans against her, realizing she probably should have stopped her hips rolling forward. She gathers enough of her sobriety to lean back and say,

"I need to pee. Come with me."

Rachel nods and without letting go of Quinn's hand, leads her to the bathroom.

Of course the line is huge. They lean against the wall, still holding hands. Rachel is staring off into space, her head leaning back against the wall. Quinn is staring at Rachel's collar bone and cleavage and is only half aware of how unsubtle she's being. How is Rachel always so unaware of how alluring she can be?

"I hate how boys can just walk right in,' Rachel grumbles.

"Mmmm,' is the only response Quinn can muster.

"You'd think having a penis would make things more complicated, but they're in and out in two seconds. Must be so easy."

"We should just go in there."

Rachel looks around. Quinn's eyes snap away from her exposed bra strap. "What?"

"It's not like they use the cubicles. We can be in and out just as quick."

Quinn is only joking, really, but the look on Rachel's face makes Quinn ready herself for it.

And sure enough, a split second later, Rachel is pulling her out of line and through the metal door labeled "Gents".

There's two men standing at the urinal and they look around in alarm when they see the girls' reflection in the mirror.

"Hey! What are you doing in here?'

Rachel waves and ducks into the first cubicle with a hearty, 'We'll be really quick! We didn't see anything!"

"Nothing worth looking at, anyway,' Quinn grins, slipping into the stall after her.

Rachel snips the lock and keeps her back turned and her forehead pressed against the door. "You go, I'm fine."

Quinn stares at her for a long moment. The nape of her neck is exposed and the bottom of her top has ridden up a bit, exposing the tiniest sliver of flesh, and she has no reservations about reaching out and touching it.

Rachel stiffens and turns her head slightly. "What are you doing?' she whispers.

'I don't know,' Quinn replies just as softly. It's already so cramped in the cubicle that it takes no effort to close the remaining space between them.

"Quinn, I'm not sure that…"

Quinn's lips muffle the rest of Rachel's sentence. Her hips roll forward again and the door rattles as Quinn pushes Rachel harder into it but Quinn barely notices. Rachel's arms are around her, pulling her closer. Quinn can taste tequila on Rachel's lips but she doesn't care.

The kiss ends, only because Quinn can't breathe, and Rachel is looking at her slack-jawed and dopey eyed.

"I'm sorry,' Quinn says, realizing that Rachel was about to say something. 'But I've been wanting to do that all night, because you looked so good doing it before and all I've been able to think about is kissing you and… and I'm really drunk...I'm sorry."

She stops realizing she's rambling.

To Quinn's relief, Rachel smiles and takes Quinn's face softly in her hands. 'I was just going to say that… maybe the men's toilet isn't the right place for this."

She kisses Quinn again, and Quinn isn't surprised that Rachel is a good kisser. She's slow and precise and Quinn's hands find her hips, pulling her into her. Quinn's tongue dips inside to taste and then sneaks back out. Their lips meld and pull against each other. Hands grip stray body parts. Moans escape and overall need shoot through the roof. Quinn isn't sure how this had escalated so quickly but she really doesn't care. She thrusts her hips forward and Rachel slams right back into the door.

"Sorry,' Quinn apologizes again, breathing hard. 'I'm sorry. I don't know how… this is…"

"I didn't know you were like this, with girls,' Rachel questions.

"I'm not… usually."

Quinn is worried she's offended Rachel when she just stands there for a moment, staring at her. But she tilts her head up, closing the distance between their lips again in a soft kiss.

"You're still the prettiest girl I've ever met,' she whispers.

Quinn kisses Rachel again firmly, the words still holding as much impact now as they did at Junior Prom all those years ago. Her body is hot and Rachel's hands are in her hair and she thrusts forward again, taking small notice of the absence of something when she's used to feeling something by now, not caring if those men are still outside because this just feels too good to stop. She breathes, attaches her lips to Rachel's neck and runs her tongue up the length of it.

"This should be the part where I tell you this is ridiculous,' Rachel pants, 'and that we should stop... and go and find Brittany and Santana..."

"They're probably doing this and more,' Quinn muttered against Rachel's collarbone.

Rachel pushes against her, grabs her hips and pulls her tighter. And this time, because she's a quick learner, she parts her legs over Rachel's thigh and thrusts; the friction is delicious.

"Oh my... unh,' was all that Quinn could say.

Quinn's body was on fire and Rachel's hands in her hair, her breath on her neck and her small body pressed against her was sending her over the edge.

"This is getting out of hand,' Rachel gasps.

"You want me to stop?"

"I didn't say that."

Quinn smiles and grazes her teeth against Rachel's earlobe. Rachel sighs and rolls her hips forward again, this time grinding against Quinn's thigh, and Quinn's body is pulsing with so much arousal that the returning gesture is almost against her will.

"This is so bizarre,' Rachel whispers, cupping Quinn's face again.

KNOCK KNOCK.

Quinn jumps back so quickly she falls back onto the toilet. Rachel, who has been holding her hand the whole time, stumbles forward with her and lands awkwardly in her lap.

"Sorry, think you'll be too much longer?' says a familiar voice. 'The other stalls don't have doors."

Quinn frowns, brushing Rachel's hair out of her face. 'Brittany?'

There was a pause, and then, 'Oh, hi Quinn. You nearly done in there?'

"Um…' she looks at Rachel, who just is biting her lip nervously. 'Yeah, almost. What are you doing in the men's toilet?'

There was another pause. "I always come in here. No lines. Why are _you_ in here?"

Rachel dethatches herself from Quinn. "We're coming out now, Britt."

"Oh, hi Rachel."

The two girls get to their feet and smooth their clothes. Quinn purses her lips and looks into Rachel's brown eyes.

"I think we should leave soon,'

Rachel nods in mock seriousness. "Me too."

"Me three.' says Brittany. 'I've run out of money anyway,'

Quinn reluctantly opens the door and looks up into Brittany's face. She's flushed and her hair is disheveled and she's wearing someone's fedora.

"I'll go find Santana,' Quinn announces, feeling her own cheeks flood with colour as she realizes what this must look like.

But Brittany seems not to notice as she ducks into the stall, snapping the door closed and Rachel says, 'I'll stay here. We'll meet you at the door."

Quinn stares at Rachel. She can feel her body tingling and she wants to be back in the cubicle with her, pressed up against her. She isn't sure Rachel is thinking the same thing, but she's hugging herself and biting her lip, looking anxious, and Quinn decides in a split second to step forward and plant a soft kiss on her lips.

She can feel Rachel smile against her mouth as she returns the kiss, only briefly, before Quinn steps back before she gets carried away.

She turns on her heel and heads for the door. Just as she steps through it back out into the club, she hears Brittany,

"If you wanna keep making out with Quinn tonight, Rachel, I think I still have those egg cartons for your walls."

* * *

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